#tree the whumpee

[whump-in-the-closet]

when a living weapon whumpee only takes orders from ONE person. They’ve been conditioned to ignore everyone else’s orders. This means that after rescue, the team can barely get whumpee to drink or allow them bandage their injuries. One of the teammates manages to imitate whumpee’s handler by deepening their voice.

They stay out of whumpee’s line of sight, standing behind their hospital bed. “Drink this,” they snap, hating how they have to command this broad-shouldered ghost of a person. Without their armor, without their mask, whumpee looks like a wraith. There’s nothing behind their eyes. They play with the hospital blanket with twitching hands that have strangled and maimed.

When whumpee hears the order they stiffen to attention and take the cup offered with those still-shaking hands. But the cup slips through their fingers and lands in a puddle on the tiles.

They immediately tense up, shoulder blades flung so far back they touch. Their breathing quickens, waiting.

But nothing happens.

They give whumpee a new glass of cold water. This time, they lift the cup to whumpee’s lips and hold it steady, with one hand behind their head for support.

[crimsons-whump-pile]

whumpees who think their only worth is what they can provide to others my beloveds <3

especially if that’s taken advantage of, whether knowingly or unknowingly! a whumper who makes it clear that they’ll toss whumpee to the side the second they’re not useful? a friend or caretaker who tries to cheer whumpee up by telling them how much they help out, how much they provide to the group, not knowing that they’re only reinforcing whumpee’s mindset? not knowing that they’re making it impossible to convince whumpee they have worth outside of what they can provide?

…ok I was going to continue on this path but then I realized that I might be describing the giving tree, so I think I have to stop now before I have some kind of mental break over that

[paingoes]

Destroyer

Trigger Discipline

(Masterlist)

this is pre-series, set in the first year delta was given to the emperor. delta and paris are both around 13 here.

(Content: living weapon whumpee, child abuse, dehumanization, power imbalances, minor bullying, slavery, emotional whump, mass death implied)

==============

It was fall break, one of the few times Paris was allowed back into Castle Thales. He dragged the suitcase behind him. There was barely enough time to set it down before the attendants swept him into the dressing room. It was hard to play the handheld with his head up straight, but he’d gotten good at it — in the same way the maids had gotten good at working around him.

His leg bouncing annoyed them enough that they let him take recess. It was only then that he first saw his father, out in the empty hallway, against the backdrop of the purple banners. The Emperor grabbed at Paris’s wrist. He pulled it up to examine the bruises on his knuckles that the makeup hadn’t covered. No hello.

“The school called. Do you think this behavior is acceptable?” His voice was calm, always calm. Paris pulled his hand back protectively.

“They started it,” he insisted.

“Don’t talk back to me, Paris. This is beneath you.”

“I got all As. Four point seven with APs. Did the school call to tell you that too?” He didn’t hide the ire in his voice. That school was out to fucking get him. None of the other students ever got in trouble for fighting. It wasn’t like he could do it by himself.

The look his father gave him killed that argument before it could start. He wilted. The old man paid him no further mind, sending him straight back into the changing room. He spent the remainder of it in terse silence, not even arguing when they placed the crown on his head, the heavy one that always gave him migraines. He never wore it during the school year. He never wore it if he could avoid it. The weight of it felt all wrong.

Nobody mentioned there was going to be a showcase that night. (They might’ve, actually. He never checked his email back then.) Even if he’d known, he still would not have been prepared for the little off-worlder kneeling on the opposite side of the old man’s throne. Dark blue skin, even darker hair. Bright, bright eyes. The Emperor’s new toy. 

Paris realized with a start that they were the same age.

He settled into the throne. The old man hadn’t come in yet; it was weird to share the dais. He watched the other boy try his best to stay invisible, like he wasn’t even there. They’d clearly had different media training. He slipped the handheld back out of his pocket while he waited for the event to start.

He sat through most of the ball unbelievably bored by the whole thing. They’d ceased to be impressive by the time he was seven years old. He never could fix his face; he was sure the discontent was obvious upon it. He didn’t understand how anyone else could manage to be polite about it or why they bothered to. The old man was good at many things, but true spectacle was not among them. That part desperately needed work. 

Still, he was intrigued by the motion to his left-hand side, the noise as they unchained the boy from where he was kneeling and led him into the center of the room. 

The lights dimmed — and his colors burned. He did not fully grasp the technical significance of the display; he doubted most people there did. The handler explained it as a kind of microscopic manipulation of the light, some supreme physical achievement. What it manifested as was the holographic appearance of the scale dragon right over their heads, its shimmering form reflected in all the small particles of air. The mirage was impressive. Paris still did not understand what it had to do with statecraft.

He saw the boy swoon like he might faint, then steady himself. He really was fresh out of the box. His eyes flitted nervously from side to side, trying to take it all in. He flinched at any loud sound — and there were many. He wasn’t used to it yet. When they led him back to the side of the throne, he seemed more grateful to be out of the spotlight than he was upset at being chained. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

It took a while before Paris could get him alone, without the old man watching. He had to wait until after the showcase was over and only the ball remained.

“How did you do that?” Paris asked. He leaned against the leftmost beam of the dais, partially obscured by the curtain. The boy was still kneeling there, still chained to the empty throne’s base.

He turned his head slowly. His glowing blue eyes studied Paris carefully; for a moment, he was afraid of the intensity behind them. Paris could not read his expression, did not appreciate the creeping silence he commanded.

“I know you heard me.” A certain defensiveness crept into Paris’s voice. The boy looked at him apologetically, raising a finger to his lips.

“Oh,” Paris’s eyes widened with the realization. “You’re not allowed to talk?”

He nodded his head so subtlety that Paris guessed he wasn’t even allowed to move. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. 

The boy seemed unconvinced, his eyes passing over the crown in Paris’s hair. Fuckin’ thing. He took it off.

The old man barked his name so loudly that the boy jumped, as if it was his own. Paris just rolled his eyes, replaced the crown, and stepped away from the dais.

“It isn’t your friend,” His father warned him, “Just because you can’t keep your own doesn’t mean I’m buying you new ones.”

His face burned. 

Paris stayed up until the party was over, even when it ran well into the next morning. As the last of the guests trickled out, he sat down on the stairs of the dais. The boy’s handler came to untether him, pulling him roughly to his feet.

“Did it talk to you?” The man asked. It took Paris a second to realize the question was addressed to him. 

“No?” He said. The boy looked at him gratefully, like he’d covered up for him, when he was just telling the truth. The doctor looked somewhat disappointed by this answer. His irritation switched targets.

“You shouldn’t speak Common in the palace. It’s unbecoming.”

Every adult swore they had a right to tell him how to act. Even this total stranger.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Paris snapped. 

The fight drained out of him as his father re-entered the hall. All noise died but for his voice.

“I’ll take it,” his father said, extending one hand out in an almost chivalrous motion. The boy, now unchained at the neck, quickly jogged down the stairs to meet him. Paris watched as his father slid his hand onto the boy’s shoulder, leading him gently out of the hall. He watched as one ringed hand brushed a strand of black hair out of the boy’s face. The boy flinched — ungrateful.

========

The Emperor did the same thing over spring break, the next time Paris returned to Thales. He had to watch the same routine, watch the old man carefully soothe out the folds of Delta’s clothing, run a thumb over his cheek. He’d been given free reign at this one, apparently. Even though he kneeled by the dais again, he wasn’t chained to it. It seemed like he was allowed to take breaks.

“It’s an object,” the Emperor would insist whenever Paris tried to get close. “What use do you have for it? I won’t tell you again.”

He still paid it more attention than he ever spared him. So publicly, as if he wanted him to see. Paris bit into the flesh of his own hand, leaving teethmarks. His father smacked him on the back of the head; he withdrew his hand back to his side, wiping the blood and saliva along his pants.

He could only corner Delta when the night was closing in, when all the adults were too drunk to notice. Paris caught him just outside of the dining room. He flicked at the silver tiara placed into his — its? — hair. It fell a few inches out of place. Wordlessly, Delta readjusted it. He kept his head bowed, his hands at his side, not speaking. Totally resigned to the treatment. 

“He doesn’t actually like you, you know.” Paris said. There wasn’t much certainty behind the statement. 

It got a reaction, but not the one he had hoped. Delta looked up a bit, the side of his mouth quirked up into a disbelieving grin. He thought it was funny. He was fucking laughing at him.

Paris was temporarily too mad to even see. Delta seemed to recognize the danger and immediately became expressionless again.

“Sorry.” There was still a bit of humor in his voice. “Um. Yeah. I know.”

Like he didn’t even care. It didn’t mean to him what it meant to Paris. 

His hands curled into fists. Delta noticed, stepping back a little.

“Your Highness,” He added the honorific on quickly, as if that was the problem. 

“Forget it,” Paris waved him off. 

He walked away before Delta could even respond, retreating to his room. He’d be reprimanded for it later, but there was no way he could go back to the party now. There was something hollow in him that would not let him sleep.

===========

Delta moved the pawn forward, his claws clicking delicately against the piece. The whole board shook from the turbulence of the ship. 

Even in summer, it seemed like they were making a concentrated effort to keep Parks out of his own house.  He saw his dad more, though. It was tour season; he was obligated to tag along. It meant that his schooling never truly ended throughout the year, but he didn’t mind so much. Everyone said he was a natural.

Delta was the only person even close to his age on the tours. As much as he’d been discouraged from interacting with him, they saw each other constantly, the only ones at each other’s eye level. He would’ve sworn the kid sought him out on purpose. 

He didn’t talk much, but he was good at listening, which Paris cared more about. They broke off from the main group in the downtime, descending deeper into the ship. There was an old chess set laying around in the crew’s lounge. Paris had climbed up to the top shelf to get it, letting it clatter loudly against the coffee table. Delta knew how to play; it was weird, the things he knew and didn’t know. The things he was good at. Paris got the sense that Delta was letting him win. 

They were halfway through the second game when the doors opened up, entirely too many personnel for the situation at hand. The Emperor was among them. Paris shrank back.

He startled as Delta’s handler abruptly backhanded the boy, knocking him out of his seat and onto the floor. He heard Delta take a sharp inhale of breath, but remain silent otherwise. 

“Apologize.” The doctor’s hand was in a vice grip against the back of the boy’s neck, nearly pressing his head to the ground in the forced bow.

“I’m sorry,” Delta responded immediately, without hesitation, even though it hadn’t been his fault. The doctor shook him a little, prompting a stronger reaction. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”

Paris had asked him to. It’d been his idea. But his father was standing right there. He couldn’t bring himself to admit to it, not after he’d already been warned. 

“It’s okay,” Paris said softly; the words felt sickly in his mouth.

As he caught the expression on the Emperor’s face, he could tell it hadn’t mattered. The old man hadn’t believed it for a second.

The doctor released his hold, pointing sharply back to the exit. Delta scrambled to his feet, practically running out of the door. He hadn’t been looking at Paris when he’d apologized and he didn’t look back at him when he left.

They all followed out onto the balcony for the show of force. With the handprint still across his face, Delta sat by the edge of the platform, his eyes closed in deep concentration. In the next moment, there was calamity. The large fortress walls all broke down beneath their own weight, sending the enemy castle tumbling down into the sea. All the residents had still been inside. The old man kept a tight grip on the back of Paris’s collar, making sure he saw all of it.

===========

The clipshow continued in the Emperor’s office, all the shades drawn and the lights dimmed. It was a supercut of the weapon’s military record, all the carnage, even the burnt bodies. Some of the shots were truly gratuitous. Paris wasn’t allowed to look away. 

“Twelve years in the making and you’re selfish enough to endanger it. You can’t be that desperate,” his father said.

“I wasn’t trying to endanger it.” Paris’s fist clenched and unclenched against the chair. “I didn’t…think it was a big deal.”

“And I assume you know more than the experts, like always.” It was still dark in the room. The clips were still playing silently.

Paris’s lip bled a little from where he bit it. He had matching cuts along his tongue. He shook his head.

“I don’t know how to make this more explicit to you, Paris. It is a weapon. It may look like a person, but its sole purpose is to kill and destroy.” The video showed a still-living hand reaching out from beneath the rubble. “It does not need you confusing it or meddling with its programming. When I tell you not to interact with it, I am doing it for your own good. Its reactions are unpredictable. The last thing I want is for you to become one of its casualties.”

Paris flinched as his father’s hands slammed down onto the desk. His voice still came out calm.

“It only exists to be commanded — and that command is not yours. You will not meddle with my property. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“This will not be a conversation next time,” the Emperor promised. Paris nodded. His throat was choked up.

He slinked out of the still-dark office, back down the hall to his room. He was glad summer was ending. He didn’t even want to be home anymore.

He was surprised to see Delta still pacing the halls with his handler, not yet placed back in his cell. He briefly made eye contact with Paris, then immediately cast his gaze back down to the floor, chastened.

……

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[befuddled-calico-whump]

A Dryad shifts into their tree form to hide from humans, and is too afraid to come out, even when a well-meaning gardener starts to cut away at their branches

(colored dryad below the cut, cw for slight gore)

whump art tag:

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast , @whumpsday , @regrets-realization-acceptance , @kixngiggles

[slippedtheknot]

Whumpmas: Day "Five"

Christmas tree + drugging + flashbacks

"Oh Whuuumpee!" Caretaker walked into Whumpee's room with grocery bags hanging off her arms. "Are you ready to decorate the Christmas tree??"

"Yes!" Whumpee slammed his book closed and shot up from his seat. After hearing stories about Christmas trees and seeing pictures, Whumpee was ready.

"So," Caretaker smacked her hands together and turned to Whumpee once they were in the living room. "I've already put it up, cause that's the boring part, but so is lights, so you can tell me which colors to put on and I'll do it. I've prepared some hot chocolate, and we'll drink some while we decorate the tree."

"Oh, ma'am, you don't have to do that. I can put lights up." Whumpee pushed his sweater sleeves up to prepare.

"No no...it's fine. I want you to have fun today, and the lights, garland, star, and skirt on the tree isn't really fun. Well, maybe the star, but everything else is boring." Caretaker put her bags down next to her red and green Christmas decor boxes. She popped open one lid, and held up colored and yellow lights. "Which one?"

"Um...yellow?"

Caretaker strung the lights to the top, and reached into the box to find some garland. "Beads or fluffy garland?"

Whumpee reached out a hand to feel the tassels, and then felt the wooden garland. "Is the fluffy garland okay?"

"Yes it will look wonderful!" She was done with the garland; looking deep into the box.

"Feel like I'm forgetting something...." Caretaker muttered. "Oh! The hot coco!"

Whumpee stared into his cup once brought to him. Did Whumper use hot coco to drug him? Whumpee remembers the drink being hot...Was it around Christmas too? Caretaker would never do that to Whumpee, but then again Whumper seemed pretty innocent at the time too.

"Whumpee?" Caretaker's broke through his running thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"No," Whumpee softly whispered.

[runecarve]

abandoned in the forest...

[unorganisedalienrubbish]

As we near that time of year again, know that it’s both right and morally correct to wrap your whumpees up with ribbon

[whumperer-86]

Choice Husband Cdrama ep25

[the-introverted-writer-for-life]

Should I make this into a series?

(answer in the comments)

CW: drugging, betrayal

With the cold winter sun piercing through the evergreen treetops, the group steadily made their way through the frozen forest towards their destination. The snow crunched audibly under their boots, and all was still in the air. Not a bird tweeted, not a badger rustled.

“So where exactly are we going, Elijah?” Lucia asked, gently pushing a fir tree branch out of her path.

“Somewhere I want to show you,” grinned Elijah. “Oh, you'll see.” He led them on, trudging through the frozen undergrowth. He didn't seem to be following a path, but he looked like he knew the way confidently and carried on without any notable hesitation.

Rhoswen gazed up at the dappled spots of light filtering through the trees. It had been a week since she had rescued Elijah from one of their traps that he had accidentally fallen into, and she was beginning to trust him more and more. She had watched him carefully, ready to note down anything that might portray allegiance to the Academy she was running from - but there had been nothing.

“Here we are!” Elijah suddenly announced, planting both feet in the snow and throwing his arms wide.

“Mate… this is literally no different than where we've just been stomping through for the past five million hours,” Jude remarked, if a little snappily.

Elijah said nothing, but eyes glinted with something Rhoswen didn't like. Then he turned to her. “Rhos, come here a bit.” Rhoswen hesitated, looking round the group for reassurance.

Then the realisation clicked.

“Where's Lucia?” she called.

Indeed, Lucia was nowhere to be seen.

Jude and Eleanor looked round, calling her name, and then waited.

Nothing.

Jude turned on Elijah. “What have you done with her?” He snapped, advancing fast.

“Nothing, I swear. I don't know where she is any more than you do,” Elijah replied.

Jude flared up. He had never trusted Elijah at all, not one bit. “I said. What. Have. You. Done. With. Her,” he intoned menacingly.

“Jude, stop. Maybe he genuinely doesn't know where she's gone. Speaking of which, where's her mum?” Rhoswen asked, moving to look beyond Jude's shoulder.

“What the…” Jude breathed.

Rhoswen turned to Elijah. “Elijah, if this is some kind of sick prank you've got us all into, I suggest you tell us and stop it. It's not funny.”

But Elijah only shook his head, looking just as confused as anyone else.

“Argh!”

“Jude! Jude!”

Jude was gone. Rhoswen stood alone with Elijah, staring at the last spot she had seen Jude, and feeling utterly sick to the core.

Elijah moved behind her, placing his left hand on her left arm. “I'm sorry, Rhoswen,” he whispered down her neck.

Without warning, Rhoswen felt a thick cloth clamped over her mouth and nose - so thick she could barely breathe. An arm whipped around her torso, pinning hers to her sides tight, leaving no room for struggle.

The trees in front grew blurry; her eyes drooped closed. The fight had gone out of her as her legs crumpled and everything faded into blackness.

Thanks for reading! If anyone wants to be tagged then feel free to ask =)

[shywhumpauthor]

Is this the right adjective to describe what I’m trying to portray? Probably not.

Am I going to find something better? Definitely not.

Y’all fuck words and their dEfiNiTiOnS- this will mean what I want it to mean. Deal with it.

[maleficore]

oh arthur morgan you can fit so much more heartbreak in you than what canon has already caused you, that's ehy youre my favourite guy

[whumpitisthen]

this is incredible id love to see a whole drabble where whumpee keeps getting these dropped off with their mail and gets creeped out every time and more and more panicked as christmas nears, sure that whumper is gonna show up in their home on the day of

Perhaps i will write it who knows

Whumper who writes Christmas Cards to all his Whumpees

Dear Whumpee, 

Guess who’s on the naughty list? That’s right, you!  Spoiler alert: it won’t be just chestnuts I’ll be roasting on an open fire… 

Have  a Merry Christmas!

 Whumper

xoxo

Season’s Greetings Whumpee! 

I’ve been making a list and checking it twice and I’ve decided you’re the only thing I want for Christmas. So if there’s a big man with a sack in your house tonight, it probably won’t be Santa! Ho ho ho!

See you soon, Whumpee.

��xoxo

Merry Christmas Whumpee!

Can you feel it in your heart? Is it the Christmas spirit? No, it’s a knife!  Red truly is the color of Christmas.

Wishing you all the agony this holiday season, 

Whumper 

xoxo

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Wildefire AU: Out of Sight

cw: adult language, implied violence, implied starvation, bruises, the prison industrial complex lol

° ° °

Sarah swore she'd had a plan when she stepped through the doors to the prison, but it had all gone to shit pretty quickly. 

Hugo had helped her fabricate an identity as a journalist, fake ID and online credentials and everything, and posed as the director of a web-newspaper to get her an interview with a low-level criminal at the Fielding Detention Center.

She was really there for Uriah.

Alexei had been the one who'd found the CEO—former CEO—shut up in one of the dingy cells. He'd broken into Fielding to try and collect information from a different inmate, but happened upon Fox instead.

"He's… he's just in some cell?"

"Should count himself lucky he's not in the Tower. Bastard's got enough enemies."

"Maybe we can use him."

Lex's expression had become unreadable when she'd said that, but Sarah could hear the way his heart sped up, the slight hitch in his breath.

She didn't want to work with that asshole either, but their resources were few and far between when it came to anything that could stand against Corp, and someone who'd once held power—someone who'd been betrayed by the rest of the city's leaders—could be a huge asset. Even if that someone was Uriah Fox.

If she could just talk to him, maybe he'd give her something they could use. As unpleasant as the man was, everything Sarah had heard about him told her he was petty as hell. He'd probably jump at the chance to strike back.

To Alexei's credit, he didn't try and convince her otherwise when she told him her plan.

Sneak in, have a chat, get lost before anyone important knows I'm there.

"Do what you want. As long as I don't have to look at him, I don't care."

She'd agreed at the time, but now, selfish as it was, Sarah almost wished she'd asked Lex to come with her. If things went south, it would be nice to have someone whose powers were good in a fight.

"Zhang is Chinese."

"Good morning," she said brightly to the guard at receptions. "I'm Andrea Zhang, with Skyline Weekly?"

She'd complained to Hugo about that one.

"It's the only profile on here that even remotely matches you. No one's gonna know."

"What if the guy who lets me in is Chinese?"

"Yeah, right."

Yeah. Right. He was white. Maybe in his thirties, with close-cropped brown hair. He regarded her with a bored expression, flipping through some papers on the desk.

"Zhang… Zhang… ah, here." He nodded to the door behind him. "That way. I'll buzz you in."

That easy, huh? Sarah figured she'd at least have to have one of those through-the-glass phone calls like on TV, but here she was, going into the prison proper without so much as an escort.

Certainly simplified matters.

Lex had already given her a general direction to look for Fox. She walked past the reinforced doors leading to the common area, cafeteria, and yard, all connected by this one long hall to give the guards easier access. Sarah peeked through the doors' embedded windows as she went, scanning the scattered groups of prisoners for any sign of Uriah. 

She wasn't all that shocked when she didn't see him. If he was here, it was because the rest of the Corp bigwigs wanted to forget him. Out of sight, out of mind.

She pressed on down the winding corridor, past more doors leading to cell blocks and supply closets and… was that the fucking room with the chairs and the bulletproof glass and the phones? They did have one, but the lazy-ass guard would rather send a journalist in alone than do the work to keep a civilian safe.

She shouldn't have expected anything less from the prison system in this city. With that level of neglect shown to citizens, how badly were they treating the inmates? Sarah had to push aside her disgust.  She had a mission. Even beyond the task of meeting Uriah, she needed to take down Corp. Once the city was free from their grasp, she could worry about the state of the prisons.

The further she went, the emptier it seemed to get. She was passing single cells now. The one she peeked into was practically featureless. A grate in the floor probably served as the bathroom, but other than that, there wasn't even a mattress. And there were a ton of similar doors.

Fucking hell, did they put every prisoner in solitary? It was completely inhumane— nope. No. Later.

Sarah closed her eyes, sharpening her hearing. Listening for movement, for heartbeats, would be quicker than checking every single door.

Of course, she picked up the usual annoyances. The sharp buzz of the fluorescent lights above her, the roar of the AC unit, even the slight hum of electricity traveling the building's inner wires. But somewhere in the muddle of sound, she could hear it.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

A heartbeat. Just one, so that was either a really great sign or a really bad one. She kept her eyes closed, running a hand along the wall to keep from running into anything, and followed the sound.

It grew louder and louder, until she had to re-dull her hearing to avoid being deafened by it. This was it. Fox was on the other side of this door.

And shit, there was only a single, small window in the door, high enough that she'd have to stand on her toes to peer in. And while she'd be able to hear him, he probably couldn't hear her. Did that mean she'd need to open the door? What if he tried something? Surely the asshole was desperate enough to—

Her thoughts were cut short as her ears picked up a small gasp inside. No, not a gasp, a wince.

Well that was almost to be expected. Someone like Fox was bound to incite a lot of brawls with his smarmy, self-important attitude.

But when she stood on her toes to get a look inside, she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth.

Lex had told her Uriah was here. She'd never thought to ask what state Uriah was in.

The blond man was curled up in the furthest corner of the tiny cell, thin arms wrapped around his bare chest, head tucked against his knees. A good chunk of his hair was matted with dried blood, and his skin was covered in purpling bruises. She couldn't see his face, but she could still pick out the bruises lining his jaw, color trickling in towards his mouth. Something inside her twinged, and Sarah decided she'd allow it. She didn't have to like Fox, but right now, it was pretty easy to pity him. Poor guy'd had the rug ripped out from under him, only to find a flight of stairs at his back.

She sharpened her hearing again, kneeling to get eye level with the doorknob. It was locked, as she'd expected, but good hearing was for more than just eavesdropping, and careful listening paired with a bobby pin made for quick work of the lock. She could hear Uriah's heart rate suddenly speed up as she turned the handle, and immediately softened her ears against it.

He lifted his head as she pushed the door open and stepped inside, pulling it closed if only to escape notice. His eyes were wide—well, one eye was wide, the other was practically swollen shut—and his face was gaunt and bloodied.

Sarah let out a breath. "Uh. Hi."

"S-Spyglass?"

"Ah, so you do remember me." She crossed her arms, then remembered she wanted to get him to cooperate, not scare him, and uncrossed them. "It's nice to know you at least knew who I was when you sent an assassin after me."

Uriah raised a shaking arm, as if to shield his face. "Please— I'm sorry, I—I know sorry doesn't m-mean anything, but please, please don't hurt me—"

Shit, that had probably sounded vaguely threatening. "No, no. I'm… I'm not here for revenge or whatever." She sighed. "I… actually had a few questions for you."

"I'll tell you anything you want, I'll comply, please don't—"

"I'm not trying to hurt you," Sarah cut in. Had she sounded threatening again? Was it possible to not sound threatening to the poor guy right now? She tried again.

"I have some information I really need. I won't hurt you if you can't answer my questions, okay? They're just questions."

She waited for Fox to nod. He never took his eyes off her.

"First, do you know of any fail-safes in place for the Hero CEOs? Backup plans that let Corp get away scott-free if we do manage to pin something big on them?" Like how they used you as a scapegoat? She didn't say that part out loud. If that wound wasn't still fresh, it was constantly being re-opened in this environment.

Uriah nodded, but didn't actually say anything. She tried to keep her voice soft as she prompted,

"Like what?"

"I… I don't know, I… I can't remember. E-everything I had, everything good, was on my personal network."

"Network?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"Computer. A—a specific computer."

She sighed. "Which I don't imagine you currently have on you."

"I'm sorry—"

"Stop." Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you know where this specific computer is?"

"Still at Titanium. In a—a vault."

"That I presume you know how to access?"

He nodded.

"Tell me." It would be a fucking doozy of a mission, but that computer could be a gold mine. Secrets, conspiracy, fail-safes… Corp's dirty laundry. If they could break in, maybe Hugo could hack the network.

"There's a code."

"Of course."

"A-and a fingerprint scanner."

"Of. Course." Fucking of course. Because there had to be something there special enough that Uriah Fox would just have to be brought along. It was entirely possible he was making that part up in a bid to get free. If Lex were here, he'd suggest just cutting off a finger, and she'd be hard-pressed to ignore the idea.

But despite her annoyance, despite knowing the truth of Uriah Fox, that he was a power-hungry, horrible man who was willing to send assassins after literal children to keep his reputation, she felt kind of queasy at the thought of hurting the trembling thing he'd become.

She… she needed time. She needed a new plan. The info about the computer was great, but she doubted Fox would be able to offer much more in this state. 

As she opened the door, peeking outside, Uriah piped up behind her.

"Where..?"

"I need to think. Thanks for the answers." She stepped out—

"Wait! Please… please, take me with you."

Her stomach sank, laden with equal parts dismay and pity. Yeah, his situation sucked, but the idea of keeping him around, of bringing him back to the team… no thank you. If the fingerprint bit was true, they'd find a way to synthesize it, and they shouldn't need Fox to get into the laptop.

"Sarah, please—"

"Using my name won't help." She did look back then, and wished she hadn't. Fox was on his hands and knees, looking up at her with teary, pleading eyes.

"You're a hero. Y-you save people."

Real heroes save everyone. Hadn't she told Lex that? Did it make her a hypocrite then, to want to turn her back on the person responsible for so much of her misery? Who'd killed her old team leader, who'd tortured one of her friends for a year?

Maybe it did. But it still felt justified.

"I was a hero," she said. "You made me a rogue."

She pulled the door closed behind her, dulling her hearing to lessen the sharpness of Uriah's pleas, and began to briskly walk back down the hallway.

With the uninspiring security, she probably could've walked right out the front doors without signing out, but Sarah stopped by the desk again anyway.

"Zhang," the guard mumbled. "Done so soon?"

"I got what I needed," Sarah offered, clutching the pen a little too long after signing her name in the visitor log. "I… heard a rumor while I was inside."

"A rumor?"

She set the pen down. "Yeah. Supposedly Uriah Fox is in here somewhere." What was she saying? Was she about to threaten the guard into treating Fox better?

"Is that what you heard?"

"It's what I heard. Though I didn't see any sign of him, so I don't know how true it is."

His eyes darted to the pen at her fingertips. "Off the record?"

Sarah nodded. "Off the record."

The guard leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, Fox is here, all right."

She feigned surprise. "Really? What did he do? I heard it was something about embezzlement?"

"Something like that," the guard agreed.

"Where is he?" Sarah ventured. "Like I said, I didn't see him."

"He's been in solitary for a while now," the guard replied.

A while. How long was a while? How long had it been since he'd been thrown out? Two months? Three?

"What did he do?"

"Existed." The guard chuckled. "They put a man like that---who's spent his entire life stepping on other people---in a cell block filled to the brim with men who've been screwed over by him and others like him. What'd you think would happen?" He thumbed through the stack of papers on his desk idly. "The first few weeks, it was all we could do to keep him alive. It's a miracle he's still kicking, honestly." He leaned in, conspiratorially. "Between you and me, there's at least two guards on staff who have beef with the guy, and I know they've been paying him visits."

Sarah grit her teeth, trying to make it sound casual when she replied, "And you aren't stopping them?"

"Why would I? It's Fox."

It's Fox.

That was her logic, too. Why would I? It's Fox.

Why would I?

Because real heroes save everyone. And whether Uriah likes it or not, I'm still a hero.

She forced a smile, rolling the pen back to the guard. "Well, have a great day," she said, not waiting for him to reply before turning on her heel and marching out the doors.

Whether she liked it or not, she'd be back. And Fox would be leaving with her.

She'd be back.

° ° °

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams

and @whumpwillow @turn-the-tables-on-them this one's for you guys lol

[a-living-canvas]

;

"When will…you let me go?"

"I said in three days, didn't I?"

That's a lie. It's already been a week since the kidnapping. But Whumper wouldn't tell him that, he would drive him crazy until he finally breaks. 

Whumpee frowned in confusion. "Yes, you did but—"

"It's only been a few hours."

Words stuck in his throat as he stared at Whumper in disbelief. It couldn't be, right? "Y-you are lying—"

"I'm not lying, sweetheart." Whumper crouched down in front of Whumpee, smiling softly as he caressed his hair. "Be patient, hm?"

Whumpee's wide eyes relaxed slightly at the touch. He nodded in defeat. "Okay…"

~

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @failgiao891 @jennyyy007 @possumhoe @theforeverdyingperson @valravnthefrenchie @firebourne21 @heyyitsworld @risk606

@electrons2006♡

[defire]

Forest setting: whump in the woods

(army/scout, fantasy vibes)

Content: mild violence, restraints

Whumpee wakes up to a sword at their throat-- they close their eyes to just imagine this isn't happening for one more second

Getting dragged by the feet over sticks and stones, making gashes up whumpee's back and arms as they squirm and cry out

Whumpee getting tied to a tree and having to stay standing because there's thorns or obstacles at the bottom.

Trying to maintain their dignity by lifting their chin as they rest their head against the tree they're tied to

When that pose forces the bob of their throat as they swallow to be very visible (bonus: looking side to side to keep from crying)

A torch sparking and flickering as it's held a little too close to whumpee's face, whumpee pulling back as far as they can and squinting to protect their eyes

Tied up and bargaining "you look like you're having a little trouble with that fire. Sure would be nice if there was someone around that knew how to do that. Too bad the only ranger here is tied up."

Brigands. Whumpee gets caught, beaten up, manhandled, groped all over for valuables, left stripped and bloody in the woods

Army stuff--scouting and getting CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY (honestly this was my childhood favorite). That sinking feeling as whumpee's face mashes into pine needles under the knee of a soldier

Being up a tree hunting or hiding out, and whumpee's enemy camps below and instead of coming up after them, they start to chop the tree down. Cue a yelling match of "get down!" "Only if you promise my safety!" "Nope!" Chop.

Falling out of a tree and hitting the ground on their back, knocking the wind out of them (especially if then, they open their eyes to see they're surrounded by grinning enemies and just groan)

[love-me-a-lotta-whump]

Golden Kamuy (2024) - Whump List - 🇯🇵

Whumpee: Sugimoto Saichi played by Yamazaki Kento

Synopsis: In the early twentieth century, Russo-Japanese War veteran Saichi “Immortal” Sugimoto scratches out a meager existence during the postwar gold rush in the wilderness of Hokkaido. When he stumbles across a map to a fortune in hidden Ainu gold, he sets off on a treacherous quest to find it. But Sugimoto is not the only interested party, and everyone who knows about the gold will kill to possess it! Faced with the harsh conditions of the northern wilderness, ruthless criminals and rogue Japanese soldiers, Sugimoto will need all his skills and luck—and the help of an Ainu girl named Asirpa—to survive. (MDL)

Genre/Tags: Period, War, Thriller, Action, Torture, Captive, Restrained, Guard Dog, Superpower, Little to No Romance

Watch On: Netflix (Original), DramaCool, KissAsian

Caution: This movie may be a bit gorey to some

WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW

4 :16 - shot at, shot

5:21 - running into battle, concern for him, jumped into a foxhole with the enemy, fought, in an explosion, pinned against a wall, stabbed multiple times, fought, in an explosion, stumbling

6:28 - facial wound reveal (that’s later a scar)

12:44 - anxious, shaking, (traumatic flashbacks: thrown into a foxhole, watching his friend die), at gunpoint, “You wanna see if I’m really immortal?” (🧎‍♀️)

16:01 - scared, stumbling, chased by a bear, saved

21:22 - attacked by a bear, thrown to the ground, fought, hand wound reveal

28:10 - hand bandaged, tells someone he heals fast

30:40 - scar reveal (whole body), someone comments on his scars

36:22 - shot at, hunted, fought

40:38 - (semi comical: hit in the face with a tree branch, fell down a hill, fell into freezing water, freezing)

52:28 - anxious, protecting someone, hunted, self sacrificing, concern for him

56:09 - at gunpoint

1:23:35 - fought, at gunpoint, hit, fell, hit in the face, bloody nose, spitting blood

1:24:50 - captive, restrained (handcuffs), surrounded, at gunpoint, (flashbacks: fought), stick shoved through his mouth

1:29:18 - another stick through his mouth, restrained in a chair (rope), beaten, bloody nose

1:31:48 - fought, slightly stabbed in his chest

1:32:54 - still being slightly stabbed in his chest, struggling, leg stabbed

1:33:10 - struggling, fought, manhandled/physically restrained, defiant

1:34:55 - restrained (rope) laying on the ground

1:37:05 - sitting covered in blood, heavy breathing, taken away on a gurney

1:39:07 - fought, dragged behind a carriage, shot at

1:42:13 - shot at, shot, fought, protecting someone, chased

1:48:51 - telling someone about his trauma

———+———

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